


New Beginnings

by daisygrl



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Zelda Spellman is Bad at Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:02:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28334307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisygrl/pseuds/daisygrl
Summary: Zelda's plans for date night go awry. Will she be able to make things up with Marie?Written for WLW Winter 2020 Prompt 4: New Beginnings
Relationships: Marie LaFleur (Chilling Adventures of Sabrina)/Zelda Spellman
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38
Collections: wlw Winter 2020





	New Beginnings

“ _What_?”

Zelda winced, taking a harsh drag of her cigarette and spitting out the smoke almost as quickly. She sat with her arms crossed over her chest, kicking her legs back and forth like a child, heels scraping the hardwood floors of her bedroom. Hilda loomed over her, glowering. It brought her back to earlier days, being chastised by their mother while their father paced heavily just outside the door.

“What I fail to understand, Hilda, is how this is any of your damn business!” She took another drag and glared back defiantly, silently challenging her sister to some kind of daft staring contest. “Perhaps you could enlighten me?” It wasn’t so much curiosity as it was belligerence, and it wasn’t so much _that_ , even, as it was a desperate ploy for Hilda’s attention.

Her sister didn’t take the bait. She held up her hands in a gesture of faux surrender, putting on the patronizing air that Zelda so enjoyed. “You know what, Zelds? I have absolutely _nothing_ to say to you. Good night, and good luck.” She turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her. 

Zelda gaped at the door, mouth opening and closing silently. She steadied herself and shook her head, accepting the waves of self-loathing that were rolling across her shoulders and barrelling into her chest. She wanted to shout at Hilda to _get back here_ and finish telling her what, exactly, was wrong with her and how she might go about fixing it. However, it appeared that that ship had sailed. It was, in any case, a daunting ask. The faults and neuroses she harboured were too numerous to sift through in one night. _Sober, at least_. 

She reached under the bed, reaching around with one hand for her box. She lifted it out and carefully removed the lid, sifting through pill bottles - prescription and otherwise - photographs, and letters, and eventually found and fished out a flask. It wasn’t her decanter, and it wasn’t scotch, but it would have to do. She couldn’t risk skulking down to the kitchen to fetch the good stuff. Hilda would surely be waiting around the corner, and she didn’t quite have it in her to stumble through another bogus, half-hearted explanation. She settled against her pillows. The first swig tasted like medicine, and the second like regret. She kept going. It was bound to get easier to swallow eventually.

  
  


***

Breakfast the next morning was a tense, awkward affair. Hilda made two attempts at pleasant conversation, but was rebuffed both times by a hungover Zelda. She stood, mumbling about having to get to the bookstore early - unlikely, given that it was a Saturday - and Ambrose excused himself after several more minutes of thorny silence. It left Zelda and Sabrina sitting across from one another, staring into their lukewarm oatmeal. Snow beat the window panes, testing the fragile glass. Not even the cast-iron stove, loaded with birch and cedar, could keep the draft completely at bay.

Sabrina cleared her throat. Zelda looked up, arching an eyebrow. “Is there something you wanted to say, Sabrina?” It was best to avoid beating around the bush. She loathed it when her family members danced around difficult conversations.

Her niece stared back at her, obviously not expecting to be put on the spot so quickly. “I was wondering what happened yesterday. With Marie.” Zelda opened her mouth, ready to brush the question aside, when Sabrina looked back down at her food. “She looked really upset when she was leaving.” She picked up her spoon and pressed on, stirring the mush on her plate half-heartedly. “I actually liked her. She seemed good for you.” Her dark eyes were not unkind when they met Zelda’s. 

The older woman blinked, suddenly unsure how to react. On the one hand, was it really wise to confide in Sabrina? Divulging this kind of information could set an irksome precedent. Her family knew better than to meddle unprompted in her affairs, and she had a considerable stake in keeping it that way. Not to mention the fact that her niece was only sixteen, and likely wouldn’t have anything groundbreaking to contribute to Zelda’s grasp on her love life. She chided herself silently. She had promised herself that she would begin treating Sabrina as more of an adult, and that included taking her perspective seriously.

On the other hand, was there anyone else? Hilda had already made it clear that she wanted nothing more to do with her relationship drama, and it wasn’t as if she was going to go and pull Ambrose into it. She couldn’t think of a single friend she could call, and it wasn’t as if she had ever been one to put in long hours of gossip over the phone. Was this really her life now? Having no one to unload her burdens onto but her teenage niece, who was likely going to forget everything she said the moment it left her lips? Apparently so.

Zelda rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she muttered. She lifted her teacup and took a gulp, as if it was somehow going to ease the tension she could feel building behind her eyes. “Marie stood me up at dinner last night.”

Sabrina drew her eyebrows together. “I’m sorry, aunt Zee.” Her expression was an intolerable combination of pity and concern, and Zelda made sure to avoid her gaze, choosing instead to pick at a loose stitch on the hem of her blazer. Unfortunately, there was nothing to do now but plow ahead, and lay her embarrassment fully on the table.

She swallowed hard and continued. “Well, I suppose ‘stood up’ isn’t quite the right term. She cancelled at the last minute.”

Sabrina cocked her head to the side. “Why?”

Zelda shrugged. “Some inane excuse about something coming up.”

Her niece narrowed her eyes slightly. “What was it?”

“Does it matter?” Zelda took out a cigarette and lit it, feeling her frustration dissipate slightly alongside the smoke. “I didn’t ask,” she admitted. 

Sabrina leaned back in her chair, incredulous. “Okay… so she cancelled on dinner, and you didn’t bother to ask her why. What if it was something important?”

“What could be as important as dinner?” Zelda snapped. Sabrina looked at her for a long moment before responding.

“Was it your anniversary or something?” Sabrina asked.

“No.”

Her niece crossed her arms. “Then I’m still not quite getting why this was such a big deal.”

Zelda stood suddenly, her chair scraping against the kitchen tile. Her abrupt movement startled a dozing Salem, who hissed and darted across the floor to seek refuge in the sitting room. “Not that I need to explain myself to you or anyone, but if you must know, yesterday was supposed to be important. Marie and I have been seeing one another for a few months, and I was going to ask her to make it official at dinner last night.”

Sabrina leaned forward, her eyes wide. “No way.” Her interest was clearly piqued, and Zelda wasn’t sure if this reaction was preferable. “So, what did you tell her? When you asked her to meet you?”

Zelda sniffed. “I asked her if she wanted to grab a bite at the Italian place on Fourth.” It was unassuming but elegant, the perfect setting for the question Zelda had been planning on asking. The food was excellent, and the wine cellar was stocked with a perfectly adequate selection of vintages. She had been planning on ordering a celebratory bottle for the two of them to share if Marie had agreed.

The truth was, she had been nervous. Things had been going almost too well between them, and some time in between the first date at the theatre and the second date hiking in Moon Valley, she had fallen hard for the other woman.

The hours prior to their date had been a flurry of indecision, jewellery, and high heels, most of which had been kicked off in frustration. Marie always looked perfect no matter what she wore, and Zelda wanted to look like she belonged with her that night. She had finally settled on a deep green number, with a cinched waist and a low neckline. She liked the way it hugged her hips, and the slit that allowed some of her thigh to peek out was an added bonus. She had spritzed perfume liberally throughout her hair and dispersed it across her pulse points, and, as an added touch, she had swiped on a brilliant, crimson lipstick. 

And then, Marie’s text had arrived and all of her plans for the night had evaporated.

“Will you show me what she wrote?” Sabrina asked, snapping Zelda out of her reverie.

Zelda hesitated for a moment before relenting and sliding her phone across the table. She sat back down and looked to the side, drumming her fingers impatiently against the wood. Sabrina opened the Messages app and scrolled through their exchange from the previous night, her brow furrowed.

6:44 _Hi Chérie, I’m so sorry but something has come up at work. Would it be alright if we took a rain check on dinner?_

6:45 _How about next week?_

7:00 _Zelda, I’m so sorry. I truly didn’t foresee this happening. I was really looking forward to tonight._

8:30 _Zelda?_

9:00 _Please just let me know if you’re alright._

Sabrina peered over the phone at Zelda. “That’s... pretty harsh, aunt Zee. You weren’t even going to reply?”

Zelda looked back at her niece sheepishly. “I was angry.” And she had been. Angry, hurt, and disappointed. There was no way she was buying the excuse that something had come up out of the blue at work; it was the oldest one in the book. No, it was clear that Marie had sensed what Zelda’s plans for the evening had been. She had obviously tried to ghost her in the politest way possible. 

The blonde scrolled through the conversation again. “It looks like something really did come up at work.”

Zelda scoffed. “Absolutely not. You may have had an untarnished track record with relationships so far, but I’ve been around the block a few times. _I’ve_ done this to people.” She lit another cigarette and took a deep drag, watching the paper get eaten up by the embers. “Not that I would recommend it,” she muttered.

Sabrina looked at her with the same bemused expression she had been wearing before. “Oh, really? Why would she have come over last night then? I can’t believe you’re going to let Marie get away because of some dumb hunch.”

Zelda glared at her. “Watch it.”

Sabrina threw her hands up in exasperation. “I’m serious! She likes you, and you obviously like her. You’re making a mistake.” She slid the phone back across the table and got up from the breakfast table, visibly exasperated. “You’d better text her back right now and apologize. And to see if she’ll still go out for dinner with you.” 

She tried to turn around to leave the room, but was stopped by Zelda’s hand on her forearm. “Thank you.” Zelda looked up, her eyes shining. 

Her niece softened. “You’re welcome.” She shook her head. “Let me know how it goes, ok?” She walked out of the kitchen, leaving Zelda to watch as the steam from her teacup swirled up into the cold air, wondering how she was going to dig herself out of this mess.

***

Zelda rang the doorbell and waited, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. It was cold, and her breath formed large clouds in the night air. Marie’s neighbourhood was snowed in completely, and the colourful lights on the houses looked like candy glowing under a fresh blanket of powder. The strangeness of the period between Yule and New Year’s Eve didn’t do much to alleviate the sensation that she was floating aimlessly - a ghost of Christmas past trudging through the snow. She had almost turned around to go home, but Marie’s light was on, and she could make out her silhouette in the window. It was entirely possible that Marie had already seen her climbing the stairs to her doorstep. She had already made it this far, so perhaps it was wisest to just see it through.

The deadbolt was unlocked, the doorknob clicked, and Zelda found herself face to face with an impatient-looking Marie, already clad in her pajamas. She looked so beautiful, even though she presumably had nowhere to go but upstairs to bed. 

“Zelda,” Marie drawled. “I thought you had quite made up your mind last night when you asked me to leave.”

Zelda bit her lip and looked down at her shoes. “I owe you an apology, Marie. Truly.”

Marie stepped back and Zelda winced, certain that Marie was about to close the door in her face. Instead, the other woman gestured towards the front hallway. “I’ve just put on a pot of mulled wine. Why don’t you come in for a couple of minutes so we can talk?”

Zelda nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She stepped mutely over the threshold and followed Marie down the hall. Her home was small but cozy, and she had decorated for the holidays with plenty of candles, boughs of fir, and branches of winter berries. The air smelled of oranges, nutmeg, and cinnamon. Marie pointed at the couch in the living room. “Sit. I’ll be right back.”

Zelda took a seat, staring absently into the fire. Despite the relative newness of Marie’s house, the living room boasted a real wood-burning fireplace, just like the one in her own living room. The heat it produced reached far beyond its heavy iron grate, and a large pyramid of stacked cedar logs sat to the side, ready to be fed into the flames. She picked at her fingernails, frowning when she realized that she had inadvertently drawn blood. She pulled her sleeves over her hands and forced herself to steady her breathing. 

Marie came in after several minutes, holding two steaming mugs. She passed one wordlessly to Zelda and sat opposite her on the couch. Zelda took a deep drink. The sweet, spiced wine settled in her belly and spread, warming up every inch of her. She looked towards Marie, who was eyeing her with a curious expression. 

Deciding that it was best to spit it out, Zelda met Marie’s dark, guarded eyes. “I am so sorry for the way I reacted last night. There are no excuses for my behaviour.” She turned her head to the side, watching the flames leap and dance. “It was deeply immature of me not to text you back, and I feel awful for turning you away when you came over.” Her breath hitched slightly, and she took a sip of wine to steady herself before continuing. Marie seemed intent on letting her finish before she responded. “I really thought that you didn’t want to go to dinner with me, and I let myself get bent out of shape because of it.” She reached for Marie’s hand, noting with relief that the other woman made no moves to pull away. “I understand if you no longer want to see me, but I hope that you might consider forgiving me.” She looked up. To her surprise, Marie was smiling, her eyes impossibly gentle and kind.

“Zelda, you really are ridiculous.” She set her mug on the coffee table, taking Zelda’s hand in both of hers. “I forgive you, of course. And I do want to continue seeing you.”

Zelda looked up, her eyes wide. “Are you sure?” 

Marie nodded. “On one condition.”

“Anything.”

Marie squeezed her hand gently. “Be honest with me. I want to know what you’re thinking, and I don’t want to worry about being shut out. I promise you, whatever you are feeling, I can handle it.”

Zelda closed her eyes. “I wanted to ask you to be my girlfriend. Last night, at dinner. And I was afraid you would say no, and then I became worried that you had somehow sensed what my plan was for the evening, and that you invented a work commitment to avoid it.’ Everything tumbled out quickly, and she took a deep breath once it was all out in the open. “I’m so sorry. It does sound ridiculous now that I’ve said it aloud.”

Marie cupped her face with one hand, and she felt the warm brush of her fingers wiping away the errant tear that had materialized at the corner of Zelda's eye. She instinctively shifted closer to the other woman, relief flooding her chest when Marie tilted her chin up and leaned forward. Suddenly, Marie’s lips were on hers, and she moaned slightly as she was enveloped by the scent of vanilla and cloves. 

Marie pulled away after a minute. “I would love to be your girlfriend, Zelda. I would have asked you soon if the opportunity hadn’t come up tonight.”

Zelda smiled, hardly daring to believe it. “Really?”

Marie nodded. “Yes,” she whispered. She kissed Zelda again. “Nothing would make me happier.”


End file.
